Ride For Me (The North Shore Crew #1)

by VR Baucke

  Running on a few hours’ sleep was going to slaughter me today. Not sleeping wasn’t through lack of trying; no matter how much I tried, I just couldn’t tear my thoughts away from Lil.

  I didn’t come to Auckland to hook up with women or to get laid. I came here as a last-ditch effort to make a clean start—no strings attached. It was beyond irritating that my actions last night would no doubt complicate my resolve for a drama free existence.

  Murmuring voices came from the kitchen then the sound of cupboards opening and pans clanging woke me fully. I lay on my back, listening to someone make breakfast, wrapped in warm blankets that hid both my body and my secrets.

  I got the prickly feeling that I was being scrutinised. With a glance over to find Mace lying on his stomach, I frowned at the daggers he glared at me.

  “What?” I grumbled.

  Mace huffed before answering in a whisper so we wouldn’t be overheard. “I hope you’re interested in Lil for the right reasons. I don’t want to see her come out the other side of...” he half-heartedly waved a hand around, “...whatever the fuck is between the two of you, in a bad way. You’ll have both Mickey and myself on your arse about it.”

  Well, straight to the point it is then. Mace was never one to mix his words; he said it like it was, and I respected him for it. At least there was no confusion.

  “You know I can’t guarantee that,” I snapped. “Besides, there is nothing happening between us, trust me.”

  I scrubbed my hands over my face in exasperation. That was exactly what I came here to avoid. I didn’t want the responsibility of having someone relying on me. History was the spiteful reminder that those people got hurt, and so did I.

  “That’s not why I uprooted to move here. I don’t know why, but there’s just something about Lil that’s so....” Words failed me so I made a vague hand gesture to convey what my mind couldn’t find the words for.

  “Yeah, mate, I know.” Mace paused for a second. “She’s a spit fire when she needs to be. If you treat her wrong, you’ll hear about it,” he warned.

  “Don’t I know it,” I muttered as my hand went protectively to my crotch.

  Mace narrowed his eyes at me again.

  “Look, I’m not one to fuck around okay. I don’t even know why I’m defending myself to you about this.”

  “I know that, but she only just met you last night. And while intoxicated, might I add.” He winced and moved slightly to get comfortable then chuckled to himself. “So, you gonna tell me what was going on in the kitchen?”

  I planted my palms over my eyes. “I’m glad you find that funny, because I certainly do not. And that’s a definite fuck no.”

  Mace sniggered again. It came out dry and ended in a hacking cough. I wasn’t even going to bother offering to get him a drink. It was karma for all the shit he’d been giving me. Standing up and stretching my arms above my head, I noticed Mace eyeing me again and I couldn’t help but flex my biceps at him.

  “Get a good look at how muscles are meant to be, little cuz.”

  “Pfft,” Mace scoffed, “You haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen these,” he countered while flexing his arm that was hanging from the couch and pouting his lips in what I assumed was meant to be some kind of erotic grimace.

  Whatever the fuck it was, it looked fucking stupid and I barked out a laugh because of it. His display was interrupted by Kimmie coming into the living room and her giving him a condescending once over.

  “You know you like it, Kimmie. I see you perving,” Mace smirked.

  Kimmie scoffed and set her hands on her hips. “You wish. Once you two have finished your creepy little mine is bigger than yours show, brekky is ready if you’re hungry.”

  “Show’s over, lil’ Kim, this power house has gotta eat.”

  “Ha, trust me, there ain’t nothin’ here to see,” she drawled and raised a brow while skipping her eyes from Mace’s exposed arm to his torso. “And for goodness sake, Mace, I know you’re still tensing!”

  One finger flipped out of Mace’s tensed fist to flick her off. She left the room giggling like mad, and once she was out of ear shot, I glared my brows at my cousin.

  “You’re a bloody show off.”

  “And you are seeing what you want to,” he retorted. With a roll and a grunt, he stood and pulled on his discarded jeans.

  I didn’t bother replying, not having the energy, or the care factor, to really give a shit. I was hungry, tired, and I was dropping balls at seeing Lil over breakfast.

  An unwelcome flashback of having Lil pinned against that very bench slammed into my mind as soon as I stepped into the kitchen. Blinking it away, I focused on exchanging half-hearted good mornings with Mickey and Trav, who were leaning on the bench eating strips of bacon. I couldn’t stop myself from glancing around for Lil, automatically assuming she would have risen at the same time as Kimmie.

  “She’s not up yet,” Mace declared loudly through a mouthful of bacon. He wiggled his eyebrows at me, and if I was closer, I would have wiped the smug grin off his face.

  “Who?” I asked, playing it cool as I filled a glass of water.

  “Oh, Lil,” Kimmie supplied, waving off the comment. “She’s demonic in the morning and thankfully won’t be up for a couple of hours yet.”

  I didn’t bother answering; it would have only provoked Mace, and we were already skating on thin ice. I could feel thick hostility radiating off Mickey in waves. It was no secret that he considered Lil to be in the ‘no-go zone’ for me. ‘Too late mate’ I thought as I met his eyes in an unwavering challenge, trying not to look too conceited.

  I didn’t, after all, want to cause an early morning brawl in the kitchen with someone I hardly knew. It was obvious by his clenched fists that he wouldn’t hesitate to inflict some damage.

  The tension was broken by Trav practically dropping the plates and cutlery onto the bench. The clatter snapped us from our awkward stand-off as Trav shot an apologetic glance at Kimmie.

  “Throw them on the bench, why don’t you!” she sassed.

  Trav held up his palms. “It was an honest accident, Kim. I’m just a little fuzzy this morning.”

  She pursed her lips then went back to stirring eggs in the pan. “Can someone make coffees please?”

  All eyes fell on Mickey. He looked up from licking the bacon grease off his fingers. “What?”

  When no one made an attempt to move, I slapped the bench and declared that I’d do it.

  “Thanks, cuz, you’re a real help.”

  I glared at Mace over my shoulder. “Don’t get used to it, I’m not your kitchen bitch.”

  Mace was chortling around a mouthful of bacon when Nico stumbled in.

  “The fuck was that crash just before? Made my heart drop waking up to that.”

  “Travis dropping everything on the countertop,” Kimmie snapped while tipping the eggs into a serving bowl.

  “Sorry, bro,” Trav supplied nonchalantly.

  Nico slapped him on the back on his way past to Kimmie and plucked the bowl from her hands. He pointed to a spot at the bench for her then set the bowl in the centre. The six of us helped ourselves, and it wasn’t long before Mace offhandedly directed a question at Kimmie.

  “So, lil’ Kim, you reckon this bench would hold the weight of two people?”

  I inhaled swiftly, causing a piece of toast to lodge at the back of my throat.

  “Oh, hell to the no, you did not do the dirty on my parents’ bench! And who with?”

  It hurt so bad my eyes burned as I coughed and sputtered, resorting to gulping scalding coffee in an effort to remove the debris. All eyes were on me as I roughly cleared my throat then wiped the sheen of sweat that had cropped up on my forehead.

  I glared at Mace, clenching my jaw so damn hard my teeth creaked. I had to hand it to him; he was bloody good at keeping a straight face. The corner of his mouth, however, showed a subtle twitch as he struggled for control.

  Kimmie looked between the two of us with
her mouth hanging open in horror. “Please tell me one of you didn’t.” She pointed her fork at me. “And that only leaves one other person in this house who it could have been, because it definitely wasn’t me.”

  Mace held up his hands in defence. “Strictly hypothetically speaking, I mean. Your bench is untainted as far as I’m concerned.” He leaned back and tilted his head towards me with a smug grin that tested the last of my composure.

  Fuck he was in for a beating! Especially after the lecture Kimmie just passionately delivered about keeping our asses off the sacred place meant only for food.

  “Better pass that onto Lil as well,” Mace added with a shrug then shoved another forkful of scrambled eggs into his big gob.

  Internally considering what he would say next, he waved his fork around then spoke after swallowing. “You know, just so we’re all on the same page. Wouldn’t want her to miss the memo, aye Gage.”

  Everyone’s eyes landed on me again, this time with various shades of sentiment; Trav was perplexed yet smirking, Mickey was pissed—no surprises there, Kimmie was suspicious as hell—I felt my balls retreat under the heat of her glower, and Mace, the fucker, was loving every second of my torture. I couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably under the weight of their combined attention. I clenched my fork and jabbed it at Mace.

  “You’re full of shit this morning.” I then turned my attention to Kimmie. “You have nothin’ to worry about, your kitchen is safe from me.” Giving her a forced smile, I deemed the subject closed.

  We ate without conversation for a short while until Mace’s phone broke the silence. Pulling it from his pocket, he checked the screen and groaned.

  “What the hell does he want this early on a Sunday morning?” In answer to our unspoken question, he added, “Dad.”

  Stabbing the call accept button, Mace slapped the phone to his ear and excused himself. It was Trav—again—who broke the snowballing awkward hush that surrounded us.

  “So, sweet ride out there, man. You had it long?”

  Setting down my fork and wiping a hand across my mouth, I finally felt like this was a conversation I could confidently immerse myself in.

  “Thanks, mate. Yeah, I’ve been riding since my late teens. Had that bike for a couple of years now. Wish I’d got a Victory sooner. There’s something about American bikes that sing to me. Fucken love it.”

  Mickey’s attention honed in on me as he ate, and Trav continued. “What model do you have?”

  I grinned like a schoolboy. “She’s a 2015 V-twin Gunner. Mint condition.”

  Trav let out a low whistle of approval.

  “Bloody nice, that’s for sure.”

  “So, you know about bikes?”

  He hummed and swallowed a mouthful. “I don’t ride. But I’ve fixed a few.”

  That jogged my memory; he was the mechanic.

  Nodding in thought, I turned my attention to Mickey and raised a brow in question. It would be good to have at least one other shared interest with Mickey besides his sister.

  Dammit, fuck. I am not interested!

  “You have a bike?”

  He set down his glass and shook his head. “No, I don’t ride. Not often anyway. I’ve ridden a few motorbikes, mostly trail bikes since we grew up on a farm and all that shit.”

  I hid my surprise at that information, storing it away for a later time.

  “Besides,” Mickey continued, “I don’t like riding around town, mostly because I’ve seen the aftermath of motorbikes versus vehicles, and that shit ain’t pretty.”

  My stomach curdled as my blood solidified. Bile rose into my throat and formed a burning knot at the back of my mouth. I tried my hardest to stop the reaction showing on my face, but by the look Mickey gave me, my distress was obvious.

  Thank fuck Trav was too busy eating to notice my anxiety. Kimmie was equally engrossed in a little conversation with Nico, so neither of them seemed to detect the halt to our discussion.

  I excused myself to grab another coffee, and by the time I sat down again I had regained a little composure. Clearing my throat, I attempted to resume my chat with Mickey.

  “So, Lil can ride too?”

  Trav laughed loud and shook his head as he re-joined the conversation. “Mate, I bet she’s already polished up her helmet and leathers.”

  “She has all the gear?” I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice. The girl surprised me at every turn.

  Mickey’s face closed off again. “Yes,” he said cautiously. “She’s got the gear because she pillions with Mace often enough. Though, he let her ride his bike once and came back pale as fuck. And he paled further when I threatened to rip him a new one if he ever let her ride solo again.”

  Mickey huffed a small laugh through his nose at the memory before his hazel eyes hit mine, issuing an immediate and blatant warning.

  “She’s got a real thing for bikes. She’s not allowed near yours, let alone lay a fucking finger on it!” He jabbed his fork my way. “And, while we’re on the subject, you keep your hands off her.”

  I internally rolled my eyes, though was thankful he had no idea that that rule had already been smashed out of the park.

  “Trust me, there is no way in hell she’s taking my baby for a ride.”

  Conviction brimmed in my voice; there was no mistaking just how serious I was, and I’d only just managed to bite off the next sentence before it slipped off the tip of my tongue. I’m not making that mistake again.

  “So, what bike did you used to have before the Victory?” Kimmie asked, blushing a little after Mickey caught her ogling him.

  “Harley,” I snipped, not wanting to talk about it, but I knew what was coming.

  “Oh nice. Why’d you change to a Victory?”

  My body stiffened and my throat tightened again. This time I struggled to simply breathe let alone get words out. Preparing myself for that question never seemed to make a difference to how my body reacted. I had no control over it, and I wasn’t prepared to have a full-blown panic attack in front of everyone. Mace, thank fuck, chose that moment to make his reappearance into the kitchen. He must have overheard Kimmie’s question because, without missing a beat, he answered for me.

  “Because he couldn’t handle the fact that my Hog pulled more chicks than his did.”

  Walking around the group, he stood beside me and slapped me on the back as I shot him a relieved look. He slapped my back again just as Kimmie asked a question which made his back slap turn into a punch between the shoulder blades.

  “Like, aren’t they pretty much the same anyway?”

  Mace took the comment like a bull stabbed in the ass. “God no, woman!” He slapped a splayed hand to his barrel chest. “You wound me! Have I taught you nothing?”

  There was no question whatsoever as to where Mace’s allegiances lay when it came to the age-old question of which chopper was the best. He’d spent a pretty penny on his Harley and would have it in his damn bed if he could get it into his house.

  “So, you done here, cuz?” Mace asked and tipped back his coffee.

  “Yeah, why’s that? Is Dave all good?”

  He waved off my unease. “He’s fine. But there’s an urgent job just come in and he’s keen for our help.”

  I took a double mouthful of coffee. “When’s he needing us?”

  “Soon as.”

  I stood and patted my pockets for my keys. That triggered Mace’s memory and he stuffed one hand into his jeans then tossed the keys my way. Giving him a wry look as I caught them one-handed, I headed down the hallway to the bathroom. Secretly, I also hoped to bump into Lil before I left, but by the sounds of it, those chances were slim to none.

  Finishing up, I made my way back to the kitchen to find Mace waiting for me at the door. I shrugged on my jacket then grabbed my helmet. With a departing goodbye and thank you to Kimmie, I stalked over to where I’d stashed my Gunner last night. Thank Christ, it was still under the eaves of the garage where I’d parked it.

  Mace
was by my side without me realising it. “Gage,” he said gruffly and grabbed my shoulder. “You all good after what was said in there? I didn’t hear it all, but enough to know it sent you reeling.”

  “Fucking peachy. I don’t want them knowing, Mace.”

  He raised his palms at my warning. I shouldn’t have issued it; Mace was as loyal as they came and I had no concerns whatsoever that he wouldn’t tell my story without my permission.

  “You know I’m a sealed book. However, I do think there’s something going on between you and Lil.”

  My glower made his brow rise. “There’s not.”

  I had my helmet hovering above my head, about to squeeze it down into place, when Mace’s comment stopped me in my tracks.

  “Oh, there she is!”

  “Where?” I said, way too enthusiastically, immediately wanting to punch myself in the dick.

  Mace chortled. “Yep, that’s what I thought,” he crowed.

  Mounting my bike, I glared at him through the open visor on my helmet.

  “You’re an asshole. That stunt will keep. Last one there shouts lunch.”

  And with that, my bike roared to life beneath me and I left a nice big gouge on the lawn as I took off. After manoeuvring past the parked vehicles in the driveway, I opened the throttle and tore down the street. A sly smile was on my lips knowing that Mace would be cursing me all names under the sun while he backed his ute out.

  Lunch was on him and he bloody well knew it.

  EIGHT

  LIL

  A WEEK. AN entire freaking week after our steamy encounter and I still couldn’t get the feel or taste of Gage off my mind.

  The last time I saw him was in Kimmie’s kitchen at four thirty a.m. six days ago, and the memory still made me ache inside. The last time I heard him was the next morning as he left, hell for leather, at some ungodly hour. The racket roused me from a deep sleep, and I wasn’t happy about it. The problem was, my head was telling me how infuriating he was and had slammed up the walls around my heart, but my heart was telling me to quit being so hard on the guy.